In Sangtam Naga mythology, the spirit's journey into an afterlife realm is called Asürüyang/Asürülih, separated from the living earth by a great boundary river.
Indigenous peoples worldwide have held various beliefs since time immemorial. One such belief is that of viewing death not as an end but as a natural transition, a continuation of the spirit's journey into an afterlife realm where families and friends reunite. Though diverse across cultures, this belief generally centres on joining ancestors in a spirit realm. The Nagas too have held this conviction for centuries. Those Nagas who believe in this belief hold that upon death, we journey to an afterlife world where our predeceased ones await us. In Sangtam Naga mythology, this realm is called Asürüyang/Asürülih, separated from the living earth by a great boundary river. Near its crossing lies the dreaded devil Jarongla Atpa, who ambushes vulnerable souls, signifying that this passage is a perilous fight to reach our longing realm.
Late Shri Tsipikyü Yingbithongrü of Kiphire village once remarked that, as per this belief, "if we don't pierce our earlobes or if we don't tattoo our bodies, our ancestors refuse to accept us in the afterlife world, unable to identify us as one of their descendants". This compels every Naga to introspect deeply as to what my ancestors will say when I meet them. Will they applaud how I lived and stewarded our Naga heritage, or will they curse me for mishandling their rich heritage? For centuries, Nagas thrived in isolation within Village Republics where each village was an independent state, with minimal contact even with neighbours, let alone the outside world. Yet when British Colonial administrators and later American Christian missionaries arrived, despite their misunderstandings and misinterpretations of certain customs and practices, they unbiasedly recorded that Nagas are honest, hardworking, polite, innocent, brave, disciplined, and humble.
Our forefathers bequeathed us an exemplary societal model. Our languages had no equivalent words for 'corruption' or 'rape.' We needed no police stations, for criminals were virtually non-existent. Without post offices, log drums transmitted messages with remarkable speed and accuracy. No affidavits were required as our word was our oath, and lying was taboo. Door locks were unnecessary, as theft was unknown, and using one would have signalled shameful insecurity. We had no educational institutions, yet the Morung imparted moral values surpassing any modern university. We lacked today's hospitals, yet indigenous knowledge and communal care healed deadly ailments. We had no written laws, yet our society exemplified harmonious coexistence. We had no political parties, yet our policymaking remained genuinely people-centred.
So where do we stand today as inheritors of this glorious heritage? Are we preserving it faithfully to pass to the next generation, or contaminating it beyond recognition? This does not advocate stagnation. Change and progress are necessary, but certain timeless values transcend era like honesty, hospitality, generosity, and communal strength once defined us. Yet in today's Naga society, genuine generosity is rare. Name and fame have become our hunting grounds in giving. Materialistic motives and selfish intentions pervade almost every aspect of life. The bonds of communal harmony and selfless service are fraying under individualistic pursuits and personal gain.
Returning to the afterlife question, how will our ancestors receive us? Will they embrace us as worthy descendants who upheld their noble values, or turn away in sorrow, lamenting our diluted heritage? The journey past Jarongla Atpa is dangerous, but the greater peril may be facing our own ancestors with shame. Ear-piercing and tattooing were identity markers. Today we may have shed them, but have we also shed the social and moral markers of true Naga-hood? Our inheritance is not mere customs but living values like honesty, hospitality, generosity, bravery, discipline, humility.
The myth of Asürüyang/Asürülih may be ancient, but its moral accountability is ever real. We must ask not only what our ancestors will say to us, but what we will say to our future generations. Will they look back with pride or disappointment? The answer lies in our daily choices as to how we treat each other, govern our communities, balance tradition with change, and measure true success. The afterlife belief is a mirror reflecting our present actions and their future consequences, reminding us that we are part of a continuum stretching from the distant past to the far future, where ancestors watch, descendants judge, and our heritage is the truest testament of who we are.
Thsachopa TS